My Name is Shibboleth

I remember reading somewhere that most people are particularly endeared to their names, so one would do well to learn the proper way of intoning them if one wishes for quick way to people's hearts. If that is true, then my parents have made the way to my heart a rather challenging one. In their diabolically genius ways, my parents have given me a shibboleth of a name. For my Chinese name, they chose a character that is quite obscured, so much so that without proper introduction, most people are bound to get it wrong. Those rare folks who succeed on their first try are often the intellectuals, people of my parents' hearts, whom my parents want me to associate with. I remember as a child, whenever I am being introduced, it is always followed by a brief lesson in etymology. Even before I was cognizant of what my name actually means, I would say my name and regurgitate the origins of my name without being asked. 

To make matters worst, that obscured character is often mistaken for another character that phonetically means "bruised ego/ embarrassment" in Chinese. I remember dreading awards ceremony just as much as I dread a trip to the principal's office simply because I hate having my name being mispronounced in front of everybody. I have tried on occasion to be defiant, refusing to answer to a wrongly enunciated version of my name. It always end up with me looking retarded because everyone knew it was me they were calling, and they would wonder why I am not responding, do I not know my own name? Should I be even awarded? If I have done something bad, then that "bruised ego" pronunciation comes mighty handy for teachers to further rub it in before all to see. Correcting them only makes matters worst. 

Then, we move to Canada... things got even more interesting, because now, not only is my name difficult to pronounce correctly in my native tongue, it is even more so in English. I became known as the Hoisin Sauce Boy. To remedy the situation, my parents decided to give me an easy to remember English name... like Andy. Don't get me wrong, I love Andy, I grew into it. Yet, unbeknownst to me, some famous Asian actor/singer also goes by that name. Now, to add to my arsenal or explanations, I need to tell people "no, I am not related to him, and I can't do half the things he does". Great ego booster there as disappointed crowd walks away shaking their heads muttering "He's not the one". 

What is more... Andy rhymes with a lot of things, and when you are in elementary school, that rhyming technique to remembering name is not just a helpful tool, but a decisive way for others to make fun of you. Especially if they realized that girls are called Andy/Andi too... and out comes the Panty Andi jokes... Still I like my name, its my name, I have grown into it. But a lot of elderly folks are not satisfied with Andy. To them, I will always be Andrew, or Charlie... Introductions often goes like this "Andy, that's short for Andrew, right?" Once established, I will forever be Andrew, no matter how I find the name to be a bit too stiff for my liking. Why Charlie? I don't know, one guy said I looked like a Charlie, another said Charlie is just the name they call people of my color... Nice!

So what have I learned from all this... I don't really care about what people call me. I have decided that so long as they and I know they are referring to me, I will answer to any pet name they gave me. So don't be surprised if you see me replying to Ping Pong or some other Ding Dong name. Because apparently two Wongs do make a White.